Since Last We Spoke: A Massive Missive

Sure, the title and sub aren’t all that original (and probably redundant). Either way, this is only my latest attempt at catching up after an unintended posting hiatus.

In roughly chronological order:

1. Anaheim Ducks won the Stanley Cup. Congratulations to them and all their fans. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one thinking that Ottawa would have at least tried to put up some semblance of a fight by way of competition in the Finals. And, yes, all of us were proven rubes. You should be ashamed of yourselves, Ottawa Senators… you got beat down worse than Chuck Liddell, and that’s saying a hell of a fuckin’ lot. You were all my collective heroes (you’re in there, too, Chuck), and you ended up on your backs. Despite my disappointment–and Erin’s trying to assuage said–I vetoed her channel change to watch the Ducks accept and enjoy the Cup. There is no more goosebump-inducing (read: thrilling) ceremony than that.

2. Given the obvious lack of interest in our townhouse, we lowered the asking price from $409,900 to $399,900. It may not elicit more interest, but at least it will put the place closer to the top of people’s real estate website search results.

3. After lowering the price, our realtor was verbally assaulted by some rude fuck in an orange Kia (Erin hawked him) who called her (the realtor, not Erin) from in front of the place. According to him, this is a blue-collar neighborhood, and we will never sell the townhouse for the price we’re asking. Had I been on the phone with that particular asshole, I would have told him to consult my next-door, blue-collar neighbor who paid $440k for his home less than 6 months ago. Aside from my neighbor’s being despondent at our asking price, he would have told DickHead that he’s been working, fixing up the place for almost as long as he’s owned it. It’s only KiaBoy’s fault that he can’t secure financing to land some shit he wants… and maybe his Dad’s fault for calling him a dumbfuck every day… or giving him the belt for spying on his mother in the shower… or making him touch some manwhore’s cock. Either way, it’s not the goddamned realtor’s fault. Lay off the smack, and put some change in the piggy bank, Fuck-O.

4. We had our second showing… and it wasn’t FuckoKiaAngryBoyWhoLovesTheCock.

5. We watched the final episode of “Sopranos”. Immediately after cut-to-black, I felt gyped… Journey-rockin’ notwithstanding. But after reading all the press surrounding the “please make it end like I want it to” and “immediate gratification” and “we hate our day-to-day lives, so please dear god allow us to enjoy some closure by way of a bloodbath” bullshit… I’m cool with the way it all ended. Plus, there was Journey!

6. Steve Jobs’ Apple WWDC keynote speech. BFD. For those who aren’t playing along at home, that stands for “big fucking deal”. Everyone’s bitching about the iPhone developer announcement. Basically, The Steve said: “Make a cool web app, and then hit it using iPhone’s Safari web browser… bickity-bam, iPhone application! No SDK! These aren’t the droids you’re looking for!” The Jedi mind trick doesn’t work here, Steve. You’re full of shit. It’s not an iPhone application if it’s not… hrm… native to the iPhone itself? Cockbag.

7. At work we had yet another PowerBook death, and a resurrection of the one-in-house-Windows-box drama-slash-hatred. Resolution? Undetermined.

8. Our third “open house” is coming up this weekend. Hopefully, a single person will show up to check out the place during the realtor-scheduled-viewing-window. That would beat the first two “open houses” by… infinity. You can’t divide by zero, folks.

9. We’re going to Virginia Beach for my sister-in-law’s wedding. That’s Erin’s sister… not the chick who married my brother. Jesus… are you even trying to follow me here? Also happening on Saturday: Sean & Michelle’s wedding in Toronto. Congratulations all around!

10. Chris Gratton back in Tampa?! WTFAYFKMHBANTCOTLF? (what the fuck are you fucking kidding me he’s back and not the cornerstone of this lightning franchise)? He is “the ideal third-line center” nowadays… and that is some sweet, sweet irony-slash-karma-slash-fuck-you-chris-gratton action right there.